


Fire, fire, fire.

by warmhoneyharry



Series: Mini Ficlets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmhoneyharry/pseuds/warmhoneyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Cas trails his fingers down Dean's chest, leaves a trail of fire, fire, fire in it's wake. Hooks a finger into the waistband of his boxers, slides them down tortuously slow, blowing hotly over Dean's cock.</em>
</p><p>[Destiel - contains mature content ◕‿◕]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire, fire, fire.

**Author's Note:**

> First work, leave kudos, comments - whatever floats your boat. ◕‿◕

**Fire, fire, fire - 27/03/14**

**[Destiel - contains mature content** **◕‿◕** **]**

**[word count: 1142]**

_*** * *** _

The air is cold as Dean scans the tree line. He breaths out, watches as his breath swirls around him in a cloud of white before it disappears, only to be replaced by another cloud of white. He shakes his head, switches up the heating in the Impala and waits.

Waits for Sammy to hurry the fuck up with that damn quarter pounder that has his name written on it. Waits for the Impala to hurry the fuck up to get to a temperature where he doesn't freeze his damn balls off. Waits and waits and  _waits._

Finally, Sam stumbles into the car, banging his head on the roof, curses under his breath and hands Dean the greasy white paper bag labelled in big, stupid red curly writing

_**Wendy's** _

Dean lets out a moan as he bites into the delicious fatty goodness. So much better than Mc Donald's and Burger King. He glances over at Sam who's staring at him weirdly.

"What?" he mumbles, mouth full of food.

Sam pulls a face, "Your disgusting."

Deans swallows, throws an arm around Sam's shoulder and presses as slobbery kiss on his cheek a loud  _smack_ echoing when he pulls off.

"Oh,  _ew."_ Sam complains but grins anyway, wiping off Dean's spit. When he's done, Dean throws his rubbish onto Sam's lap and starts the car, humming as the low rumble resonates beneath him. Hears Sam's agitated grumble of  _I'm not a bin, Dean_ and lets a small smile slip onto his face. 

He pulls out of the parking lot and begins the long drive to their new destination, someone in the outbacks of the Mississippi. Apparently, a giant man/shark has been attacking people and apparently, Sam thinks that warrants him to call ahead to offer his and Dean to provide their ' _services'._

Dean's eyes grow heavy so when he spots  **Motel Casablanca** he lets out a little sigh of relief and turns into the car lot. Parks the Impala, locks and double checks - you can never be too sure these days - and strides towards the main building. It's tacky, that's for sure. The old brown wallpaper is peeling, damp running along the ceiling and the carpet looks like it hasn't seen a damn hoover in over fifty years.

Behind the desk, a man, late twenties, severe acne scattered across his face, sits mouth hung open as he watches intently the small fuzzy portable tv in front of him. Dean takes a quick peek at the screen. It's some sort of weird Japanese cartoon show. Nerd.

Sam clears his throat and he looks up, mouth still hung open. "Hello, welcome to Hotel Casablanca." god, he talks so slowly, Dean's almost falling asleep listening to him. "One room or two?"

"One with two beds."

He clicks away at the keyboard, eyes glancing back to the tv every so often. "That'll be $54 for the night."

Dean rolls his eyes and slaps the money on the counter. The boy grabs it and shoves it in the till, reaching up for the keys hung on the wall. He has really bad sweat patches. Jesus. Has he never heard of deodorant. Maybe Dean should leave him some. 

"Room 307, have a nice night."

Dean rolls his eyes again.

_*** * *** _

"Hey Sam," Dean calls out from the shower. "Go out and grab me a six pack, would ya? I'm thirsty as hell."

Hears Sam bang about in the room before the room door slams shut. Dean grins, lathers himself in the cheap motel soap, feels the grime and sweat running down the drain. He loves it. Hasn't had a decent shower in what feels like forever. 

When his skin starts to resemble a prune, Dean hops out, towels himself dry and slides a pair of tight black boxers over his hips. Swears when he stubs his toe on the door, hopping on one foot, bouncing up and down. He lets out a startled yelp when big calloused hands wind around his waist before relaxing tipping his head back to peer up at the intruder.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel's deep voice purrs, thumbs rubbing circles into the jutting bones of his hips. Dean shivers, pressing back hard against him.

"Hi," his voice is soft, breathless. Castiel spins him around, grabs the back of his neck and smashes his lips to his. Dean practically  _melts_ against him, a high whine escaping his throat. Castiel wraps an arm around Dean's waist and shoves him up against the wall. 

He sucks and nibbles on Dean's lips, moans and whimpers flying past them. He loves the way Cas pushes him harder against the wall, claiming dominance. A growl vibrates from his chest, Cas tapping impatiently at his thighs, Dean's gets the message and jumps, bracketing his leg's around the angels waist. 

Throws Dean on the bed roughly, watches with dark eyes as Dean bounces and pounces, lips attaching to his neck. Dean titls his head, keens as Cas sinks his teeth into the spot where his neck meets his shoulders, pulls back to examine the mark.

"Mine," he says, voice deep and commanding, sends shivers down Dean's spine. Arches his back, spreads his thighs, bucks up into the strong body above him. 

"Yours, yours, yours," Dean's practically hyperventilating, chest heaving roughly up and down, up and down.

Cas trails his fingers down Dean's chest, leaves a trail of fire, fire, fire in it's wake. Hooks a finger into the waistband of his boxers, slides them down tortuously slow, blowing hotly over Dean's cock.

"Cas, please! I need -" he begs, voice cracking just the way that Cas loves, bucking his hips up again for some kind, any kind, of friction. 

Cas leans down, takes the head of Dean's cock into his mouth, tongue swirls around the tip. Dean absolutely falls apart, moans high and loud, desperately tries to hold himself back from burrying himself in the back of his throat. Grips the thin crappy motel covers so hard his knuckles turn white from the pressure. Cas bobs up and down, doing things with his tongue that are just so fucking  _sinful_ he wants to scream.

Instead he lets out a pitiful whine, stretching it out as Cas deep throats him and of course. Cas has no fucking gag reflex. Damn him. His mind goes blissfully blank, tsunami wave after tsunami wave of pleasure and relief crashing over him. Comes straight down Cas's throat, mouth open in a silent moan. The angel takes it all, sucks until he's clean and crawls over Dean's limp body. Presses his lips against his, slips his tongue into Dean's mouth, lets him taste his come in Cas's mouth. 

Gives him a dreamy smile and pecks him once, twice, three times. "I think I might need another shower now."

_*** * *** _


End file.
